


When You Walk In The Room

by venomedveins



Series: Fire Starter [1]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Body Paint, Drinking, First Meeting, Lust at First Sight, M/M, hinted at domestic violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomedveins/pseuds/venomedveins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron and Nasir meet at a club. It's not what they expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Walk In The Room

Nasir brushes a few strands of hair back from his forehead, reaching out to make sure his bun is secure. It's so hot in the club, already packed full and it's barely midnight. His cheek is throbbing, the bruise under his eye hidden by two layers of concealer - haphazardly dabbed on by Chadara on the way over. By the end of the night, it will be on full display due to sweat - a reminder of Cesar's temper. 

Twisting another cap off the bottle, Nasir glances around the place. A few of the other guys and Nasir were hired to do body paint tonight. It's a less permanent art piece than his normal form of tattooing, but people still will pay major bucks for it to be done. Even if they're just going to sweat it off. 

"Yo man, can you do like some sick ass tribal shit on my back?"

A man in a long white t-shirt asks, reaching to fist bump. Nasir stares at the man, thinking back to the four years in art school, hundreds of dollars, and can't help but sigh. 

"Twenty bucks."

\- - -

Agron really, really, really doesn't want to be here right now, but it's Duro's celebration party for finally graduating the police academy and he got to choose the location. It's not a bad scene, the music is a little too close to the sound fucking cats make in the alley outside of Agron's apartment but the drinks are cheap. 

Most of the bodies in the crowd are painted in neon, glow in the dark stripes, lines and dots curling around toned stomachs and thighs. It'd be so easy for Agron to get lost in the middle of it. Let the alcohol and the frenzy intoxicate him until he found someone to take home, but he's not sure he wants to go down that path yet. 

"If you looked any more miserable, people would think you were at a funeral," Donar grins next to Agron, handing him a sweating beer. 

"That obvious?" Agron asks back, taking a pull of the Guinness.

The energy of the place doesn't escape him though. It's a thrumming heat that has Agron's eyes scanning the crowd. His eyes have just locked on a short man with dark eyes when Duro crashes into him. 

"Brother!" Duro's drunken arms swing around to hug Agron's ribs tight.

"We've been here twenty minutes. How are you already wasted?" Agron laughs, patting Duro's back. 

"Free shots!" Duro giggles, before tugging on Agron's tank top, "Let's go get painted!"

"I dunno," Agron shakes his head, but Duro pulls out the pout - the crux of every older sibling. 

"Alright, alright! Let's go." Agron nods at Donar before being pulled away. 

\- - - 

Nasir chews on the straw of his rum and coke, finishing putting tiny dots along a thin girl's hip. It's the third butterfly he's done tonight, each a mix of pink and blue body paint. Somewhere, his foundation art teacher is silently weeping for Nasir's wasted talent.

"How much for a chest and back?" 

A drunk guy nearly trips into the table, laughing. Nasir doesn't even bother looking up, rolling his eyes as he sends the girl back out to dance in the crowd. 

"Twenty each," Nasir replies, the same mantra he's been saying all night. 

"Alright. I'll take both."

He glances up right as the guy begins to pull his tight, black tank top over his head, slowly revealing inch after inch of tight, bronze skin. Nasir is momentarily paralyzed by the thick chest and toned stomach that comes into view, shoulders wide enough to wrap completely around Nasir's small body. 

He tucks the shirt into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a wallet and handing the money over. The whole time, Nasir feels as if he's frozen to the spot, unable to even properly breathe as the blush raises high on his cheeks. 

"You alright, little man?"

Nasir's jaw drops when the grin pulls across the man's face, dimples coming into view. It crinkles the man's green eyes, though the color is gleaming even in the semi-dark club. 

"I-I-" Nasir shakes his head, reprimanding himself for his small lapse into catatonic lust. 

"What colors do you want?"

He keeps focused, eyes locked on his paints and brushes. He refuses to glance up at the way the man's jeans dip dangerously low on the v-cut of his pelvis. Nor the sizeable bulge contained within the zipper. 

"I don't know. What do you think will look best?"

The man places his hands flat on the table, leaning forward into Nasir's personal space, smirk replacing his easy smile. Nasir swallows thickly, suddenly feeling way too hot in this huge club. 

Gnawing on his bottom lip, Nasir holds the other's gaze for a moment, racking his brain for something clever to say. Nothing comes to mind though, and he ends up blurting the first thing he can think. 

"Green. To match your eyes."

If the floor could open up and swallow Nasir completely, he would be forever grateful. The man before him doesn't seem too put off though, if him tipping his head back and laughing is any sign. He looks even more attractive in the sweeping lights, looming high above Nasir. 

"Well, who am I to argue with an artist? Do whatever you think looks best."

Nasir nods, silently dabbing a thick brush into neon green, stepping around the table to move closer to the man. Nasir has never been one for cologne or anything like that, but this man smells perfect - a thick musk that makes Nasir want to chase it deep into the man's most intimate parts. 

Dragging the brush along one curved side of the man's pectoral, Nasir is afraid to look up or even breathe. It's as if the thumping sounds of the club have dulled, muted next to the sound of the bristles dragging along the man's smooth skin. 

"I'm Agron, by the way," The man murmurs, lifting his arm so that Nasir can swirl the paint in a spiral over his chest. 

"Nasir."

Nasir is glad that the sweeping lights of the club mostly hide him, containing the secret of his scarlet cheeks and neck. He gives in and peeks, reprimanding himself instantly when he catches Agron grinning down at him. Nasir is sure that the dimples are going to be the death of him, combined with biceps that big - there is no chance for Nasir. 

This close up, Nasir can make out a thick scar on the left side of his chest, the freckles scattered along his shoulders, the black lines of a tattoo on his hip. He works on the other side of his chest next, dabbing paint in quick little flicks across the other's nipple to fill in a thin spot. 

"Fuck!" Agron gasps, head tilting back a little and Nasir's stomach instantly fills with heat. 

\- - - 

Agron can barely contain himself. This short, tatted up man with his messy long hair in a bun and his hands covered in glow in the dark paint is the most beautiful thing Agron has ever seen. The blinking lights around them reflect in his large eyes, lashes a dark smudge against his cheeks when he keeps his eyes downcast. Agron has never wanted someone this bad and this instantly before. 

Reaching out, Agron slides his fingers gently across Nasir's cheekbone, tucking a stray hair behind his ear. Nasir allows it, teeth implanted firmly in his bottom lip, not even flinching when Agron's thumb brushes the edge of his mouth.

Not to be outdone, Nasir drags the paintbrush down in a slow zigzag along Agron's tight stomach, slowly lowering himself down. He looks up slowly through his lashes, the perfect example of innocent seductress, just about to drop his knees when Agron is suddenly knocked nearly over by someone stumbling into him. 

"What's taking you so long?" The man laughs, arm thrown tightly around Agron's shoulder. 

"I'm almost done, Duro. Why don't you go dance?" Agron nearly snaps, groaning as Nasir quickly rises back to his feet. 

"You're done. Go ahead," He says quickly, lights sliding along his face to reveal a crimson blush high on his cheekbones. 

"Who are you?" Duro turns, squinting down at Nasir. 

"I painted your brother," Nasir motions, turning back to his table. 

"Come have a drink with us! I just graduated the-the uh-" Duro scratches the side of his head, squinting one eye shut as he looks at his brother. 

"He just graduated the police academy," Agron rolls his eyes, moving forward to press closer to Nasir, trailing his fingers slowly down his arm. 

"Come have a drink with us." 

Nasir can feel the words against the back of his neck, heat and tension curling tight in his stomach, cock jumping at the tone and light touch. He thinks back to Cesar's glowering face in his apartment doorway, knuckles covered in Nasir's own blood. 

"I shouldn't. I'm working," Nasir glances up and over his shoulder, suddenly unable to move. 

Agron's face has shifted, just slightly, but enough for Nasir to notice it. He's no longer smirking; willing the other man over, instead his brow is furrowed slightly. With a slow and tentative hand, he reaches for Nasir's face again, fingers dragging along the other's cheek bone, sending a jolt of pain through Nasir. 

"Shit," Nasir hisses, going to pull away, but Agron is suddenly holding his jaw - preventing his flight. He studies the bruise a little closer, before gritting his teeth tightly.

"Tell me who it is and I'll fucking kill them."

"You don't even know me," Nasir snaps, suddenly breaking the spell and jerking away. He doesn't know why, but realizing the truth in his words hurts a little. 

"But I want to," Agron steps forward, ignoring his brother's whining behind him, "I want to know you."

"I-" Nasir is at a loss, backing up, "I don't think you will once you find out who I really am."

Nasir needs to get out. He needs fresh air and to retreat from the terrible and harsh need to curl up inside this man's arms - a stranger's arms! Nasir doesn't know what it is, but he wants to stay with Agron, let the man protect him and love him, even though he knows he can't. 

"You don't know that," Agron argues, pushing through the crowd enough to grab Nasir's wrist. The smaller man manages to find the emergency side exit, yanking his wrist tightly away from Agron's grasp, feeling something fall off, before sliding out into the alley. 

"You really won't." Nasir calls miserably before fleeing into the night. 

Agron stands there for a long time staring at the braided rope bracelet left in his hand.


End file.
